A FOX AND AN OX
by ohsoclovely25
Summary: This is a story about Foxface and Thresh. Have you ever thought about what they did in their time in the arena? They just might have teamed up.
1. Chapter 1

_A FOX AND AN OX_

_DOWN IN THE WHEAT FIELDS_

_This is a story about Foxface and Thresh. Have you ever thought about what they did in their time in the arena? They just might have teamed up. _

_Foxface POV_

Chapter 1 

Seritan is lying on the floor, rolling around playing with his truck.

Mum is being lazy as always, sleeping in between eating cans of butter.

Why does butter even come in cans?

I guess that's just the level of intelligence in District 5.

Dad is making us beef soup before he goes to the nuclear plant.

"Dad," I groan "What's with the beef soup for breakfast?" I absolutely hate beef soup let alone for breakfast.

"Mercy! Don't complain or you'll go hungry!"

"But Dad, I absolutely hate beef soup, I'd rather go hungry."

"Fine."

"Fine."

I grunt and head out the door to school.

School. Boring old school. It's always nuclear explosions this and energy saving that. What could get more boring?

"Mercy! Mercy!"

Oh Crumbs. I sprint towards the entrance gate.

Being the fastest student in my year I have to have some advantage over Gradn.

He is the most annoying boy you could ever imagine, chasing me every single chance he gets.

He will never be as fast as me, no one will

That's my strength.

I guess I am quite sly and sneaky as well.

And have I mentioned that I'm the smartest girl in my class.

If there is one thing I've ever learnt it is that strategies always work as long as you plan them.

I am now running so fast that I feel like I'm flying.

I see Jastil as a big blur.

As usual, he is eyeing me off in awe.

His face was filled with admiration and resentment.

I guess if he beat me I'd hate him in a way that involves slight admiration.

I bolt even faster now with the gate inside.

As I fly through them, a tremendous hazy shape appears straight in front of me.

And I can't park now.

Bam.

_Thresh POV_

I hate this axe.

I hate this bucket.

I hate these scissors.

I hate these stinky gloves.

I hate these berries.

I hate these trees.

I hear the Mockingjays tune.

Thank god this day is over.

I trudge along, barely even able to trudge.

Even with my brutal strength I'm suffering from muscle aches.

I am not a wuss though.

I don't hate pain.

I love fear, not that I've ever experienced it.

People fear me though.

I appear scary, brutal and sinister.

One hundred per cent frightening.

Blood boiling and spine tingling. Absolutely horrific.

And boy do I love it.

I swing my fist toward the beehive and break it into pieces.

They bite me a million times.

The pain is intense.

That's what I find lovely.

I just can't wait for the reaping.

I would never volunteer yet love, and I mean absolutely love, to get reaped.

It has been a dream of mine.

I could scare the living daylights out of everyone.

Watch out Panem.

You'll never know what's hit you.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Foxface POV

I didn't think that it was possible for a good, well-behaved, smart and sporty girl like me to get expelled.

But obviously it is.

I suppose I did squish Mrs. Craydo and now she has 3 broken fingers, concussion and 7 broken textbooks.

I only have myself to blame.

As I get dressed for the reaping, I start to wonder.

Maybe I should volunteer.

I mean seriously, does anyone ever sneak around unseen yet surviving?

Johanna Mason did it.

But that's not stopping me.

Not in the slightest.

There is hope that I could win.

But what weapon would I use to my advantage if I got to the final battle?

What does it matter now anyway, I'll think about it later.

I head for the door.

"Mum, Dad, Seritan, I'm volunteering."

That's when I hear his shriek.

I just turn my back and walk away.

How could I just leave Seritan to yell and scream my name, desperate for me to return?

I just did.

After my blood had been printed and Halloway Gretson had played one of those cheesy Capitol videos, I new it was time.

Time to show the capitol what I'm made of.

But can I push myself enough to leave my family behind?

And maybe return with a whole new life?

Am I a chicken or a champ?

When I push myself to volunteer, I realise one thing.

I'm a champ.

Thresh POV

My Grandma wailed for me to never, ever enter The Hunger Games.

My Grandfather was dead.

My Mother hated me.

My Father is still in the justice building suffering from a mental condition called Hessed.

He has never been the same since my Grandfather died.

I crunch up the acorns in my hand and spill them onto the ground.

Powdered.

Crunched to smithereens.

I fill my bucket with the stupid acorns and repulsive, sickening berries into my sloppy, mouldy, grotesque bucket.

Eew.

I'm not a wuss, but it's disgusting.

I don't go "Eew, Dirt!' or shriek "Mud! Mud! Mud!"

I'm tough.

That's why I pray to get reaped.

I rush back home and put on my shirt and pants.

They are so uncomfortable crooked seeing that they are nearly too small.

I walk solitary towards the justice building.

I get blood sucked viciously out of my hand.

Lovely.

I line up next to two sick, skinny and dirty boys.

One looks about 13

The other, 18.

Isayl Mitter blabs on and on until finally she heads towards the massive tubs that retain all of our names in it.

Please reap me.

Please, please, please.

For the girls, a tiny little 12 year old named Rue got reaped.

The poor kid.

She is the one that signals the end of the working day by whistling to the Mockingjays.

I hope I can help her.

Isayl dips her hand into the boys tub.

As she reads out the name my face lights up.

I've been blessed.


End file.
